


with love from l.a.

by sheisraging



Series: little windows [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday Party, Dogs, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pets, Steve Rogers's Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheisraging/pseuds/sheisraging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka. Steve's birthday and shenanigans, albeit a little late</p>
            </blockquote>





	with love from l.a.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [Ignited](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited) for the beta read!
> 
> There is a conversation in this story that is dedicated to [kissedxbyxfire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kissedxbyxfire/pseuds/kissedxbyxfire). Pretty sure she'll know which one it is when she reads it. :P

Steve comes home from his morning run to find a package propped up against the front door. Its backside is facing him, so he can’t see the label or who it’s come from, but he has a pretty good idea. He unclips Roscoe’s leash from her collar, grabbing the box and letting them both into the house.

He drops the box on the sofa and yanks his sweaty t-shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry room. Roscoe makes her usual rounds of the house, checking every room for Bucky. She comes trotting into the kitchen after a few minutes and parks herself in front of her bowl with a small whine.

“I know, girl,” Steve says, reaching down to scratch between her ears.

Steve freshens up Roscoe’s water, grabbing a bottle for himself and toeing off his sneakers. He wanders back over to the sofa and picks up the box, flipping it right side up and laughing loudly when he sees the top. Covered in Natasha’s bright red lipstick kisses and a huge _I MISS YOUR COCK_ scrawled with black Sharpie in Bucky’s signature hand, it’s no wonder the delivery guy left the thing face down.

Still laughing, Steve drags his key through the tape and folds open the box to see _CALL ME_ , also written in Bucky’s handwriting, across the inside top flap. The bottom flap features a crossed out _~~Naked!~~_ in Natasha’s neat cursive, though underneath Bucky has added a small _(Unless you get this after 10pm on Thursday night)_.

He slips his phone from his pocket and dials Bucky’s number.

“It’s six am on Saturday,” Bucky grumbles, voice raspy with sleep, “I assume you’re completely naked.”

“Not quite, but I bet you are,” Steve chuckles. “I’m sorry I woke you, it’s nine here and I just got back from my run. You wanna call me later?”

Steve smiles, listening to Bucky grunt and stretch.

“Nn-nnh,” he replies around a huge yawn. “Tell me more about ‘not quite’.”

“It’s only been two weeks, you that hard up?”

“You keep talking and I can be,” Bucky snarks. “Actually, you know what, yeah, hang up. Call me back on FaceTime so I can see you.”

Steve grins. “You are naked, aren’t you.”

“Call me back and find out,” Bucky chuckles and disconnects the call.

Steve grabs his water bottle, picks up the box and shuffles into spare room. He sets the box on the floor beside the desk he and Bucky share, drops down into the desk chair, and turns on the computer. Steve’s phone starts to vibrate while he waits for the machine to wake up.

**Bucky:** _What’s taking so long, Rogers?_

**Bucky:** _Are you getting naked?_

“Christ,” Steve mutters, opening FaceTime and dialing Bucky’s number.

The call connects and Steve smiles when he sees Bucky, sleepy and shirtless (and most likely naked) in rumpled bed sheets.

“There you are,” Bucky murmurs, a slow smile spreading on his face.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky reaches out, adjusting the iPad he’s got leaning up against a pillow, and then settles back, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Did you look in the box?” Bucky asks.

“Not yet. Considering the last one, I’m not sure I want to,” Steve smirks.

Bucky lets out a quiet laugh. “Blame Nat for at least half that shit. Bad influence.”

“Mmhmm. Sure,” Steve nods, looks at the writing on the box again. “What’s after ten on Thursday, by the way?”

“Nat left that night. Side op in Vancouver, and then back to the Tower to meet with Stark and Fury.”

Steve snorts. “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from her soon, then.”

Bucky lifts an eyebrow. “What’d you do?”

Steve shrugs innocently. “The note she included in your last care package was pretty vague.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re an ass?”

“I mean, in my old age, sometimes I forget where I put things. Including obscene gag gifts. _‘With love, Can’t wait to hear about it, X-O-X-O-X-O, Natasha’_.”

“I can’t figure out who’s going to be angrier, Nat or Pepper.”

“Not Tony?”

“Nah,” Bucky croaks, rubbing at his eyes. “He’s just gonna give Nat weird looks for a few weeks. Maybe subtly leave it around the lab while she’s there.”

Steve barks out a laugh. “Now that I’d love to see.”

“Sad reality of being an evil genius.”

“Ah, well. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”

“C’mon,” Bucky tilts his head. “Open it.”

“You sure you don’t want me to save one just in–”

“I’ll be home for your fucking birthday, Steve.”

Steve sighs. “It’s not the end of the world, Buck, there’ll be plenty more.”

“Humor me.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing with all these things?” Steve asks.

Reaching down, Steve pulls three soft objects wrapped in tissue paper from the box, setting them on his lap and pulling the post-it note off the one on top.

_Saw this, thought of you._

Steve cocks a brow and lifts his gaze back to the screen.

Bucky only grins and gives a small shrug.

Steve huffs and tears open the tissue paper, snorting loudly when he sees the t-shirt inside. He tosses the paper back into the box and holds the shirt up in front of the screen, then lays it against his chest.

“ _I’d flex but I like this shirt_ ,” he mumbles, reading the print on the t-shirt.

“Put it on,” Bucky commands.

Steve rolls his eyes, but pulls the shirt over his head.

“Jesus, what size is this?” he mutters, trying to pull the cotton over his shoulders.

“Pretty sure it’s a boy’s large,” Bucky bites his lips to try to fight off the laughter, but a huge snort escapes him. “Is that not the size you wear?”

“Asshole,” Steve says. When he finally gets the shirt over his chest, the cotton is stretched so thin over his upper body that the print of the writing has already cracked.

“You know, it doesn’t look half bad,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve tugs at a sleeve and grimaces, “I think I may actually have to tear it off.”

“Hey, I paid good money for that,” Bucky sputters out. “Treasure it.”

Steve reaches back and tugs the collar of the shirt up over the back of his head. It slowly pulls over his chest and gets stuck at his arms. He shifts around, trying to free himself without ruining the shirt, but the more he moves, the worse it gets. With his head stuck in the funnel of cotton and arms extended in front of him, he lets out an exasperated groan.

Bucky falls back onto the bed in a fit of laughter, which sends Steve into one, as well.

“Don’t,” Steve begs, laughing helplessly after a few minutes of futile struggling. “I’m laughing too hard to get out.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky says, rolling forward and forcing a calm face that lasts all of three seconds. He falls back on the bed again as soon as Steve starts to pull at the shirt sleeves.

Finally tugging the shirt over his head and hurling it to the floor, Steve throws his fists up in victory. Bucky curls his arms over his face, laughter shuddering out of him in gasps. Steve slouches down in his chair and watches him with a fond smile.

After a few more seconds, Bucky’s laughter dies down. He wipes tears from the corners of his eyes and rolls his head to the side.

“You got two more to go,” he says.

“Are they all in children’s sizes?” Steve asks, picking up the other two shirts from where they’d fallen on the floor.

“No, the others are normal in size,” Bucky waves a hand at the screen. “Promise.”

“Size but not content,” Steve smirks, tearing the tissue paper open on one of them.

Bucky shrugs.

Steve lifts the shirt, properly sized this time, and tosses the paper into the box. The white tee is sleeveless and almost completely open on the sides. The type across the front reads _I Flexed and the Sleeves Fell Off_ with, _Muscle Beach, Venice, CA_ in small print beneath it.

“It’s the sequel,” Bucky explains with a smile.

“I’m sensing a theme,” Steve laughs. “But I can actually wear this one. Maybe. The neighbors might think I’m a dick.”

“Tell them it’s true,” Bucky offers.

“Then I would actually be a dick.”

“Open the last one. Maybe you can wear it to your party at the Tower.”

Steve nods. “Pretty sure that means I can’t.”

“Pretty sure you left an inflatable chair with a pink vibrating dick built into it in Stark’s lab with a card that says _Love, Natasha_ , so I’m not sure who you think you’re fooling,” Bucky grins.

Steve waves his middle finger in front of the screen. He folds the second t-shirt and sets it on the desk, then picks up the first one from the floor and does the same, before tearing open the wrapping on the third.

_If you think I’m hot  
you should see my boyfriend_

“Oh, I take it back, I can wear this,” Steve chuckles as he reads the print on the navy tee still folded on his lap.

“Yeah? Try that one on, too. Lemme see.”

Steve pulls the shirt from the wrapping, unfolding it to reveal the full message:

_If you think I’m hot,_  
_you should see my boyfriend’s_  
_cock._

He laughs loudly. “Well, never mind that idea, though it wouldn’t be a lie. You giving free shows?”

“Nope,” Bucky smirks. “There should be one more thing in that box. No more t-shirts, promise.”

“Aww, Buck,” Steve grins broadly, pulling the large bag of salt water taffy into his lap.

“I know this is asking a lot,” Bucky starts, “But try to save me at _least_ one piece.”

Steve already has three in his mouth by the time Bucky’s done talking. “I can’t make that kind of promise,” he garbles.

“I miss you,” Bucky says, voice suddenly gone soft and sad.

Steve freezes for a second, then struggles to chew the taffy faster, trying to finish and gulp it down so he can return the sentiment. He realizes, as he rapidly works his jaw, that Bucky is trembling with silent laughter, again.

“You’re an ass,” Steve manages, finally swallowing the chunk of sugar in his mouth.

Bucky claps his hands and falls back on the bed, caught in another fit.

“I d- I do th- I do though,” Bucky stutters out, sitting back up and wiping the tears from his eyes as the last hiccups of laughter subside.

Steve shakes his head and grins. “I miss you, too, Buck.”

“And I’ll be back on time, you hear? I already told Fury I’m not spending your birthday on a dead end mission in fucking California.”

“Can’t wait,” Steve says softly.

Bucky nods. He watches Steve quietly for a moment then takes a deep breath. “Okay, we should hang up before I really do start begging you to get naked.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, slowly sliding one hand down his chest and dipping his finger tips into the elastic waistband of his running shorts. He smirks as Bucky’s eyes widen, then, slipping his hand into his shorts, Steve reaches forward and disconnects the call.

Steve’s phone starts buzzing within seconds.

**Bucky:** _Diiiiiiick._

Steve laughs and quickly replies with an eggplant emoji, followed by a heart.

\---

“Well that’s just obnoxious,” Tony says after reading the print on Steve’s t-shirt. “And scientifically impossible. Banner, maybe …if he went green and then probably not so much flexing the sleeves off as shredding them off, but I digress. Dick shirt, Rogers.”

Steve shrugs. “It was a gift.”

“From your other half, I presume?” Tony nods as Bucky approaches and hands Steve a beer, “And how was sunny California?”

“Sunny,” Bucky deadpans.

“I didn’t think you boys would make it,” Natasha drawls, slipping into the space between Bucky and Steve and wrapping an arm around each of their waists.

“Not make it? To his own birthday party?” Sam asks, ambling over holding a plate stacked high with hot dogs and hamburgers from the grill.

Natasha shrugs. “Barnes was so sex-starved while we were gone, I figured they’d be sequestered for at least a week.”

Bucky waves a hand. “Nah, we just knocked out a quick double hot dog before we left. We’ll be good until tonight.”

“Jesus, Buck.” Steve groans, dragging a hand over his face.

Sam freezes with a hot dog halfway to his open mouth. He shakes his head, drops it back onto the plate, and picks up a hamburger instead. Natasha reaches her hand out for the plate, her smile curving up to one side as she picks up the hot dog and passes the plate to Tony.

“Double hot dog?” Tony asks, head tilted curiously.

“Really?” Sam says around a mouthful of hamburger. “All those brains and no imagination?”

Bucky takes the plate from Tony, handing it to Steve and grabbing two hot dogs from the top of the stack.

“Christ,” Steve mutters, shoving half a hamburger into his mouth in one bite.

Bucky grabs one of Tony’s hands and shoves the hot dogs into it, so that they’re both cupping the frankfurters together. He raises his eyebrows and then steps back, leaving Tony staring at the hot dogs in his palm. Natasha laughs, but with her mouth full it comes out as an inelegant snort. She nods her thanks when Sam hands her a napkin and a beer.

“Oh hey, the double hot dog,” Clint exclaims, pointing at Tony’s hand as he joins the group.

At that, Natasha snorts again, which leads her into a coughing fit. Steve pats her back until she nods and takes a deep breath.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she chugs back half her beer. “Thanks,” she grins, snorts, then dissolves into such a fit of laughter that she has to go sit down.

“What’d I miss?” Clint asks.

Tony looks up with a curious furrow in his brow. “So how do you—”

“Well, I think our work here is done,” Steve says.

Sam levels Bucky and Steve with a glare. “You’re both terrible people.”

Bucky smiles and shoves an entire hot dog into his mouth.

“I hate you!” Sam calls after them as they walk toward the pool.

“That was excessive,” Steve mutters.

“You love it,” Bucky somehow manages to garble out while he chews.

“Hey,” Clint says, catching up and throwing arms over both their shoulders. “Settle a bet.”

“You gonna cut us in?” Steve asks, stopping a few feet from the pool’s edge.

“Depends on whether or not I win,” Clint smirks.

“Is it anything to do with the double hot dog because—”

Clint laughs. “No, no. I’m not nearly as fascinated by everyone’s sex lives as Stark is.”

Bucky snorts. “What’s your bet?”

“Does the serum make you immune to the whole no swimming until an hour after you eat thing?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Isn’t that a myth?”

“What?” Clint asks. “No, of course not. Everyone knows you can’t swim for an hour after you’ve eaten.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s an old wives tale, Barton.”

Clint sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, You’re both so difficult. So I guess, since you don’t _believe_ in the concept of not waiting an hour after you’ve eaten to go swimming, then it doesn’t matter to you?”

Steve tilts his head, brow furrowed. “No, Clint. It doesn’t matter. What’s this ab—”

Steve cuts off when Clint not-so-subtly nods his head and there’s a sudden thunderous roar of footsteps stampeding toward him.

“DOUBLE CANNONBALLLLLL,” Thor yells as he collides with Steve, lifting him completely off the ground and carrying him into the deep end of the pool with a massive splash.

“Yeah, I didn’t think that through,” Clint mutters, soaking wet at the edge of the pool.

“Nope,” Bucky says brightly. He gives Clint a hard shove, sending him toppling over into the water.

\---

“Christ,” Bucky croaks. “Why are you still wearing that?”

“I’m stuck,” Steve mutters, slumping into a chair at their kitchen table. “Too exhausted to fight with it.”

Bucky sighs and places a mug of coffee on the table in front of him. Steve gratefully wraps his hands around it, closing his eyes for a few relaxing sips.

“Hey,” Bucky calls from over by the stove.

When he looks up from his coffee reverie, Steve’s a bit glazed and red cheeked. Bucky takes the opportunity to snap a photo.

Steve groans, lowering his mug and dropping his head to the table. The stretched cotton of the impossibly small t-shirt rolls up and settles into his armpits.

Bucky grins at the photo for a few seconds, sets it as his wallpaper and tosses his phone on the counter.

“Sit up,” Bucky instructs, smacking Steve’s bicep. “Arms over your head.”

Steve lifts his arms in the air as Bucky grips the tee and forcefully tugs it up and over his shoulders.

“For the record,” Steve says, voice momentarily muffled by the cotton over his mouth. “I’m pretty sure me wearing this shirt for sex should have been your birthday present, not mine.”

Bucky pulls the shirt free of Steve’s arms and tosses it onto the kitchen counter.

“Who said that was your birthday present?” Bucky asks, heading back to the stove.

“ _You_ did. Last night. _‘Come on, Steve. I got you such a nice present.’_ ” Steve drawls.

“I _did_ ,” Bucky nods. “But it isn’t that.”

Steve gapes at him. “You _know_ that’s why I caved.”

“You’d fight your way back into that shirt right now if I put your dick in my mouth.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not the point,” he pauses. “But if you want to test that theory, I’m not opposed.”

Bucky laughs quietly and turns off the stove. “Yeah, I bet.”

After loading plates for each of them, Bucky carries breakfast over to the table. He grabs a thick envelope from the counter on his way, handing it to Steve after setting down their plates.

“This is your birthday present.”

“Buck—”

“At least open before you tell me I shouldn’t have, Rogers.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how hard it was to fuck in that thing?” Steve says, neatly tearing open the envelope. “You absolutely should have.”

“You know, you didn’t complain this much last night.”

“Buck—” Steve says softly, looking at the resort brochure and printout of their reservation.

Bucky shrugs. “I told you it’s a nice present.”

Steve pulls a thick stack of folded papers from the envelope. “What are these?”

“Sworn affidavits from the team promising that they will not, for any reason barring health emergencies concerning our dog, who will be staying with Nat, by the way, contact us while we’re gone.”

“There’s a penalty?” Steve bemusedly notes, scanning one of the documents.

“Dick punch,” Bucky nods solemnly.

Steve tilts his head.

“Oh, Natasha’s not gonna bother us,” Bucky notes. “The dick punch was actually her idea.”

“Fury signed this?” Steve asks, flipping one of the pages to the front, eyebrows nearing his hairline.

“It took some… encouragement,” Bucky nods.

“I don’t think I’ve ever _been_ on vacation,” Steve laughs, setting the papers aside.

“Neither have I, pal,” Bucky grins. “It’ll be a learning experience for us both.”

“So, when do we leave,” Steve asks. “How do we leave?”

“Stark is letting us use his private jet. I figure it would be easiest,” Bucky says, holding up his left hand.

“Probably a good idea.”

“And we leave in two days.”

“Two— Do we have everything we need?”

Bucky flips open the brochure and points to a glossy photo that makes Steve feel relaxed just by looking at it.

“It’s a bungalow on an island resort. We can walk right into the ocean from our bedroom,” Bucky shrugs. “I plan on being naked at least eighty percent of the time.”

“Only eighty?”

“Come on, Steve, we should at least see _some_ of the island.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://sheisraging.tumblr.com) and be amazed at how many photos of Chris Evans I can reblog in one week! Feel free to subscribe to this series for updates!


End file.
